Doubt
by Saber Wing
Summary: Part of him would stay trapped in the warp core forever, and he wasn't sure there was anything he could do to get it back.


_**Author's Note: **_Special thanks to my beta Bebedora, who looked this over for me and help me iron a few structural kinks out. She's also responsible for the title, so go check out her stories. You won't regret it, I promise! Shameless endorsement, but she deserves it.

Welcome to my first addition to the Star Trek fandom! I realize the _Into Darkness_ hospital scenes have been done to death, but I had an idea for my own so damn it, here it is. Can be read as ambiguous friendship or Kirk/Spock. Whichever tickles your fancy. But they're totally space husbands :D. Enjoy!

* * *

"Everything looks good here, Captain. I'll get out of your hair now."

Jim smiled tightly but said nothing as a nurse, whose name he couldn't remember, took down his vitals. When she finally exited the room he slumped back into his pillows, drained. He understood the necessity, but this whole 'every hour on the hour' thing was getting really old, really fast. It was probably out of character for him, but honestly he just wanted to be left alone.

If he couldn't have that, was a shower too much to ask? Oh and maybe a stiff drink, preferably something raunchy that would put him under the table and blot this whole mess out.

Gingerly, he rolled onto his side and lifted his arm to take a whiff, face crinkling up in disgust. At this point he'd just settle for the shower.

After witnessing the horrors of Tarsus IV and the destruction wrought there, Jim had become almost manic about personal hygiene. Provided there was time, of course. It wasn't like he would take off in the middle of a crisis to _shower, _but as soon as that crisis was over you bet your ass he was out first chance he got. No matter how exhausted he found himself, he'd take the time to scrub his skin clean, so hard some days he'd emerge red and raw from head to toe. Fuck if he knew why. He was sure any psychiatrist would have a field day inside his head figuring it out.

Luckily for him, suppression was one of the things he did best.

Silently, he scratched at his IV and contemplated whether it was worth it to have somebody bring him food. He was hungry, but he didn't much like the idea of another cafeteria sandwich with the consistency of rubber, and he sure as fuck wasn't going to bother Bones for trivialities like, 'Find me something edible that isn't from here.'

His CMO hadn't been back in a couple hours, which was something of a relief. Hopefully, he was finally passed out in a bed somewhere. He'd been hovering like a mother hen for _days_ now. Jim couldn't even sigh without having a tricorder shoved in his face. Not that he blamed Bones for that. The poor guy was a nervous wreck, and rightfully so. Death wasn't just something you walked off.

Until now, apparently.

From a distance, he could hear the sound of footsteps approaching the doorway. Within seconds they were upon him, door swinging open quietly.

_Again? _

Jim suppressed a sigh, turned his head to give an obligatory nod of acknowledgement…

And felt his face split into a genuine grin.

"Spock!"

On second thought, maybe he could do with some company.

The Vulcan inclined his head. To an outside observer he would appear stoic as ever, but Jim knew what to look for. There was an ever-so-slight softening of his jawline, the barest hint of emotion in his eyes. "Jim. Your color is improved today."

"I'm feeling a lot better." Physically anyway, but he kept that to himself. "What, did you miss me already?" It had only been maybe six or seven hours since his first officer had been here last, but he wasn't complaining. Spock had gradually become one of his favorite people to be around, crazy as that seemed. He was genuinely happy to see him.

His first officer did not respond to the question. Instead he approached the bed, pausing for a moment before pulling a wrapped parcel out of his jacket. "I thought you might enjoy non-hospital issue sustenance. You have expressed a certain liking to these pastries. Doctor McCoy assured me it is safe for your consumption."

Jim's jaw dropped. "You brought me donuts?" Eagerly, he reached out to take the proffered food, wrapped carefully in a napkin. Yup. Donuts. With chocolate frosting and sprinkles.

That was it. He was going to cry. "Spock, I think I love you."

"I believe you are attempting to thank me. In which case, you are welcome applies."

He took a bite and sighed in contentment. "Where did you even get these? Didn't you have some big important meeting? You're in your dress uniform."

"It was required of all Starfleet Officers. Facilities included a snack bar afterward, which I utilized for your benefit."

Jim paused, donut midway to his mouth. "Spock, are you telling me you stole donuts from a Starfleet snack bar just so I could have them?"

"Technically, Captain, they were for the use of everyone in attendance. I have never heard any regulations dictating I could not take them with me. Furthermore, you are a Starfleet Captain and therefore would have partaken were you not bedridden."

Jim's face broke out into a brilliant smile. This was true friendship. "Well that settles it. I'm keeping you. You're mine now. There's no escape."

Spock raised an eyebrow. He expected the Vulcan to remain silent, but was touched by what he heard instead. "I was not aware that was in question, Captain."

They lapsed into silence, Jim not trusting himself to say anything further just yet, and for a time they were content just to be in each other's company. Spock filled him in on recent Starfleet happenings and repairs of the Enterprise, though most of it he'd heard from his crew as they'd come and gone, visiting him in days past.

After several minutes had lapsed, Spock set his uniform hat on the bedside table and gazed into Jim's face, unabashed. Uh-oh. He was giving him _the look_. The one he used whenever he was about to call him on his bullshit.

"You seem rather introspective of late, Captain. It is most unusual."

And there it was. The elephant in the room.

Jim braced his hands on the mattress and shifted with a grimace, lips quirking up in a smile that felt forced even to him. "Mr. Spock, I'm insulted! I _do _think sometimes."

Spock gave a short nod. Only his voice betrayed his skepticism. "Perhaps, but not quietly."

To anyone who didn't know Jim, that might seem an odd thing to say. The crew of the Enterprise, however, knew better. He liked to think he was intelligent, but he was also aware that most of the time if he had an idea, everyone else knew about it too. He formulated a plan, usually out loud, and then he just…_did _it. Reckless maybe, but no one could accuse him of being indecisive.

Jim was a social butterfly. He liked to talk to anyone who would listen. A bad habit he'd gotten into once he'd actually found people who cared what he had to say. Now here he was brooding in bed all day, speaking only when spoken to. Sure he couldn't get out of bed at the moment, but that didn't mean there was any shortage of nurses coming to check the monitors, and Bones was never very far away. He didn't snap at them, he answered when they asked a question. He nodded politely when they entered, then went back to staring blankly at the wall. No wonder McCoy was treating him like a sick puppy. Jim hadn't raised a single complaint the entire five days he'd been awake. And yeah, it was probably weirding him out.

When he finally answered Spock's unspoken question, it was with a heavy heart, in a voice that sounded as if it could belong to a man three times his age.

"I'm just not sure what there is to say anymore. I _died, _Spock. I could speak, but what do I say to the doctors? What do I say to my crew? I don't even feel confident that I could walk to the bathroom by myself, let alone encourage them. They need a captain who can boost their morale. I don't know that I can do that right now, Spock."

"Captain, it would stand to reason that the crew is more concerned with seeing you alive as opposed to accessing your linguistic capabilities. You saved the Enterprise from destruction and hundreds of others from certain death. It is only logical they would defer to your authority henceforth, and-"

Jim groaned and covered his face with his hands. "Spock, would you just stop crunching numbers for one second and listen to me?"

"I fail to see how you could accurately express what you wish to say in one second. According to my calculations, such action should take you no less than-"

"Spock. Shut up. For fuck's sake, that's an order." The Vulcan was lucky Jim was currently feeling weaker than a baby tribble, because if he'd been able to stand he probably would have punched him in the throat.

His first officer did as he was told, but raised an eyebrow in question.

Jim sighed. He knew it wasn't Spock's fault. That was just the way he was wired. A selfish part of him had been hoping this brush with death would make the Vulcan more accepting of his emotional side, but he couldn't simply ask him to change who he was, nor would he want to. Spock was Spock and he liked him that way, logic and all.

Spock stepped forward and sat straight-backed in the chair beside his bed. "It is clear to me that you are emotionally compromised. If outbursts will help you sort through this, I will provide a listening ear." His words, though immaculate as always, were nevertheless gentle and rang with sincerity. That in itself was strange. Vulcans claimed not to feel, but Spock wasn't just a Vulcan. Not really.

One look at the sheer earnestness in his friend's gaze and all of his anger melted away. Well, shit. So much for not being in touch with his human side. Why did Spock always have to prove him wrong? It had been so much easier to embrace his inner 'total dickhead' before he'd met him.

Jim Kirk was no saint by any means, but for whatever reason, Spock made him wish he could be.

"Captain Kirk died behind that glass door. The guy they're expecting to see back on the bridge? He's gone now. I'm what's left and what if that isn't enough, Spock? Respecting the chair also means I have to give it up when I know it's not mine."

The words hadn't even crossed Jim's mind until just now. He hadn't let them. Now the cat was out of the bag, and he resisted the urge to bow his head. Was that it? Was he just scared? Was he that much of a coward?

Six months ago, if someone told him he would even entertain the idea of willingly giving up the Enterprise, he would have laughed them all the way to the next galaxy. Even now there was a part of him that couldn't believe he'd just said it. Turns out even James Tiberius Kirk couldn't roll his eyes and brush off death like it was no big deal. He might be lying here breathing right now, but one thing was for certain.

Part of him would stay trapped in the warp core forever, and he wasn't sure there was anything he could do to get it back.

"I am aware that what you have been through cannot simply be ignored. However, you are underestimating your capabilities."

Jim opened his mouth to interrupt, but Spock raised a hand before he could speak. "Many of your actions are not logical, Captain, but I have come to realize that is one of your greatest strengths. Your emotions run deep, but they drive you to do what is right for your crew and the Enterprise. The passion you ignite in the men and women who serve you, in turn compels them to follow your example. You were willing to sacrifice all for them, and they respect that on both an authorative and deeply personal level."

Spock paused for a moment. Outwardly his face and mannerisms betrayed nothing but when his eyes locked onto Jim's, the young captain was shocked by the affection he saw in them.

"They…feel for you, Jim. As do I. If you need time to reassess your situation, they will understand. Such traumatic experiences would likely change anyone, but being different from before does not mean you are not still James Tiberius Kirk. My friend."

Spock's words, though they did not erase the ache in his heart, acted as a balm, lessening the pain into something he thought maybe he could bear. He wasn't sure he believed his first officer exactly, but one thing he did know: the Enterprise was his leading lady and she always would be. Whether or not he was the best captain for her remained to be seen, but she deserved to decide for herself, right? Not to mention, apparently there was something his crew liked about him, because at least half of them had been here to sob over his bedside in the past few days. How fucking weird was that? Last time he'd checked, there had been maybe a handful of people in the entire known universe who could stand to be around him. Not counting the ones who just wanted to fuck him, anyway. Now he had hundreds, maybe thousands, fawning over him?

Why? He wasn't a hero. He hadn't done anything special. Actually, in the grand scheme of things he had failed spectacularly.

It wasn't as if their opinions of him mattered in the long run. Most of those admirers were people he didn't know from a hole in the wall. But if Spock and his crew thought he was worth fighting for…maybe. Maybe there was some truth to that. They still wanted him as their captain even after everything that happened and he wanted to be there for them. More than anything.

Jim didn't believe in no-win scenarios. Never had, never would.

He was stuck then. He had to win. He had to do this.

Despite his best efforts, his vision blurred as his eyes filled with tears. He gazed up at Spock and smiled shakily. The noise that escaped his lips was meant to be a chuckle, but somewhere along the way it ended up a sob. God, that was irritating. He wasn't just some wilting, fragile flower. He was James Fucking Kirk, damn it. Psychologically and spiritually confused, yes, but Jim Kirk all the same.

The young captain bit his lip. This was not happening right now. He was not about to cry all over Spock. _Again._ The Vulcan, however, refused to shy away. Instead he raised his arm, palm outstretched toward Jim.

The tears came then, and there wasn't a damn thing he could do to stop them.

Spock was alive. He was _warm. _Jim could touch him. Feel the warmth of his skin absent glass between them. Spock's hand hovered just over his chest in a Vulcan salute and he raised his own to meet him, pressing their palms flat against each other.

Most things made him feel pretty shitty these days, but this-this was good. He didn't know how. He didn't know why, but what did it matter anyway? Spock was here and maybe it was stupid, needy and selfish, but here was where he liked him.

And damn it, here was where the Vulcan would _stay._

Jim threaded his fingers through Spock's, placing their joined hands over his heart. "You know, if I'm going to do this I'll need the best first officer in the fleet at my side. Think you're up for it?"

The twinkle in his eye was almost mischievous as he responded.

"Always, Captain."


End file.
